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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29121312">Life is not the things that you do</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piet_ra/pseuds/Piet_ra'>Piet_ra</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Catradora as moms, Catradora's first date, Cecily Smith AU, F/F, Feel free to scream at me, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Light swearing(nothing excessive), Modern AU, Nonbinary Character, it's very sweet and fluffy but also so sad and I'm sorry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:20:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,753</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29121312</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piet_ra/pseuds/Piet_ra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Finn finds an object from their moms' past, Adora ends up taking them on a trip down memory lane to when she first met the love of her life.</p><p>or</p><p>Adora tells Finn about her first date with their mom.<br/>(inspired by the song Cecily Smith)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Adora/Catra (She-Ra)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>86</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Life is not the things that you do</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Here's my contribution to the She-ra fandom!<br/>first fic I publish since I was like 12, so I'm excited to be back. Hope you like it!<br/>However, major CW: There's mentions of death, grief and the whole losing someone aftermath. It's only at the very end and the rest is quite cute, if I do say so myself.<br/>The pandemic really effed me up and made me face my own mortality more than I wish it had. Therefore, is kinda self-indulgent, but I hope you all can enjoy it anyway and if you find some solace in it the same way I did, then my job is complete!<br/>Thanks for reading!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h2>...Is who you're doing them with.</h2><p>
  <span>They could feel it coming. Stealthily creeping back up, raising the hair on the back of their necks, making them stop everything they were doing, just waiting for it to decide whether it was going to make a move or not. In the end, even when preparing for it, they still gasped sharply and…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Achoo!" It was not showing them any mercy. "Achoo! Achoo!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ugh. Why did they have to stay with closet duty? Finn absolutely despised sneezing, everyone in their family said it was just another thing they got from their mom Catra, aside from the uncanny looks. It was some sort of inside joke amongst the adults in the family that Finn never really understood. But they couldn't blame their mom for it, not for a second. It was horrible. The feeling, the sound, the burning sensation afterwards, the fact it was never one sneeze, but a chain of them. Being the most allergic person in the house meant they despised dust even more. And this fucking closet was just overflowing with it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Who the fuck turns their closet into a fucking storage unit anyway? </span>
  </em>
  <span>They could see it all around the room, appearing and disappearing as soon as they dropped some old box and the dust made contact with the lone sunbeam coming through the window. But Finn powered through the allergies - even if they did put a bandana on their face - and sorted through the boxes stashed there (that of course were organized chronologically because why the hell not), throwing out the junk and stowing what was going to the new house. Everyone was pitching in to help organize the house that over the last 30 years had accumulated so many memories and well... junk, coming in and out at various times of the day and following their mom Adora's very carefully crafted schedule. So, unless Finn wanted to throw off Adora's game plan - and trust them, you do not want to do that lest you be faced with her wrath - they would have to deal with a piece of cloth on their face and a trip down memory lane with every open box. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the sun was finally setting and the house had been mostly emptied, Finn had made more than 25 years of progress. At least from what they could tell. The remaining boxes had nothing from after they were born, the last one sorted containing all their newborn albums and trinkets. Nothing the family hadn't gone through a million times before when feeling particularly sentimental. But now, things were finally getting entertaining. They shouldn't have been so excited at the thought of going through their moms’ stuff, they were an adult for goodness sake. But when Finn opened the next box, they felt like a child doing something they knew they shouldn't but was going through with it anyways. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first box destroyed Finn’s excitement as soon as it was opened. It was filled with old decorations and yellowed books that were practically falling from the binding and had long seen the glory of being exposed on a shelf. The second and third box had followed the same pattern, with the addition of old receipts and warranty terms for things they no longer owned. The fourth box was on its way to becoming another disappointment in Finn’s little crusade until, underneath the mess of old broken chargers and earphones, they spotted the beginning of some old clothing. They pulled it out excitedly, disturbing the years of mites and dirt, not caring for the contents that inevitably were pulled out along with it and were relegated to the floor. The folded fabric happened to be two old jackets that they had to keep at arm's length, unless they wanted their nose to exact its revenge. One was a black leather jacket that once had something written in it, but had long faded. The other was a denim red jacket, completely frayed at the edges and a bit discoloured. It didn’t take much for Finn to realize what they were holding, these two garments had made their appearance in so many old photos, all the time, repeatedly - honestly one would think they didn’t even own anything else. Looking at those links to their past, they felt that giddiness return, this time accompanied by a strange throbbing in their chest, a sense of misplaced longing at getting to know another side of them, who they were outside of the “Mom” box, Finn had put them in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They separated both jackets in a corner for later. Finn kind of wanted to try them on, but they really could do with a good wash. Turning back to the box, they found a bunch of other accessories and an absurd amount of old keychains, ranging from rusty A’s and C’s to mini Funko Pops. Who knew they were so into superheroes back then? Well, it really wasn’t that much of a leap considering Adora’s keychain is, to this day, a tiny sword. A bunch of old sketchbooks were the last thing they pulled out and it would never stop to impress Finn how amazing Catra’s drawings were. Handling them with care, they saw these were dated 2021. Young adult Catra really had spent a lot of her time perfecting her landscape. But sprinkled throughout were a few portrait drawings of all their family. Adora being the most prominent one, but everyone made an appearance eventually. Aunt Glimmer and Uncle Bow drawn as very glittery cartoon characters had to be their favourite. Bow was holding his namesake and there were sparkles coming out of Glimmer’s fists. Finn was giggling alone, taking a break from organizing and just flipping through the old sketchbooks, leaning against the foot of the bed from their spot on the floor. Absentmindedly, they kicked the now empty box aside to stretch out their legs. The box tumbled down and made a noise an empty box definitely shouldn't. Setting aside the notebooks carefully, Finn crawled to where the box had fallen. At first glance, it still looked like nothing but air and years old dust were there, but pressed against the side of the box, almost going unnoticed, there was a slim cardboard envelope, the same color as the cardbox. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s why I didn’t see it</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Curiosity piqued once again, they opened it to reveal an old vinyl disc. It had been fairly used, given the amount of scratch marks all over it. The envelope was blank, probably not the original, but that meant Finn had no idea of what they were holding. That didn’t matter, though, what made this vinyl so interesting compared to the other hundreds they had stored in their living room rack was its biscuit - yes, they knew the names of the vinyl parts, sue them. Right there where there should have been the disc’s info, there was only a beautiful artwork of two holding hands with a red flower between them and a little message - </span>
  <em>
    <span>“See if you can hold your tears this time, dummy”</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Signed Catra. They didn’t even have to see the signature to tell it was Catra who wrote it. From the moment they read it, they could hear her voice teasing their mom, drawling out the fond nickname. Finn felt a twinge in their chest at that, but they brushed it away just as quickly as it had come, the mysterious disc in there a far more palatable option. They looked outside, the day completely merged into night and decided it was enough for a day, all that junk would still be there tomorrow. With that resolution, trying hard to focus solely on their new mission, they ran to the living room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The living room had been almost fully emptied out by now, boxes filling almost every corner, all the decoration and portraits gone. But if they could count on one constant thing in their life, it was the turntable record player sitting on the coffee table between the two big armchairs. Of course that would still be there even during a move. That thing was </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> moved. No matter how many times they redecorated or changed the layout of the room to fit whatever phase they were going through, the turntable had retained its esteemed spot in the coffee table. Finn ran towards it, kneeling in front of the tiny table, opening the lid and letting muscle memory do all the work. It had been so long since Finn had put something to play in it, having moved out a few years ago to go to college, but at the same time it felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> familiar, almost second nature, like it was just yesterday that Catra and Finn were playfully arguing about the other hogging the player every night. Adora had tried to make them compromise, but it would barely last and she mostly just sat back eating and watching the two tire themselves out. Shaking themself out of their reverie, everything already prepped, they pressed play.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a few moments, nothing happened, and Finn wondered if the disc was too old to work properly. it filled them with disappointment, but something urged them to stay put. The violins startled them, the hair on their neck rising immediately. It was a beautiful sound, but much to their moms’ dismay, Finn hadn’t become an opera person (but oh if they didn’t try). The closest they got was making Finn way too much into musical theatre and </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>was the true compromise. Still, they insisted Finn was doing it to spite them, cause it was one of the only things that got Finn to sleep when they were a baby, to which their answer was always </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A loud crash from the other room broke through the first number of this still unnamed opera. Finn paused as soon as they heard, but Adora was already barging into the room before they could fully get up. She looked like she had seen a ghost, but these days, that wasn’t really a novelty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kitten? W-what are you doing?” Her voice trembled a bit, but Finn pretended not to notice and just answered the question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I found this disc in an old box in your closet. There wasn’t a title or anything so I wanted to know what it was, but it’s just another opera.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Finn!” Adora rushes towards them on the floor, sitting down. She looked at them oddly, interrupting her outraged rant that was sure to come. She reached a hand towards their face and yanked the bandana back to their neck. Finn just mumbled “allergies” back with a tiny smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway, that’s not just ‘another opera’,” There it was. “It’s freaking ‘La Traviata’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, mom. It's La Traviata. I still can't tell the difference between this and the fifty other operas you have in your collection. Honestly, I was hoping to find you were secret heavy metal lovers but, alas, I'm disappointed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora laughs. It’s a nice change of pace from the last few weeks. Finn wanted to keep the conversation on this happy track. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know your mother would throttle you if she ever heard you saying that”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few seconds pass between them and the solemn tired look that’s coming back to their mom’s face made her look way older than she actually was. So they press on, trying to distract her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what’s the big deal about this one? Aside from the drawings, that is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Drawings?” Adora looks back, confused. Finn just points to the player where the vinyl finally stopped spinning, the art fully visible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora jumps forward, getting up on her knees, tears filling her eyes. Fuck, that was not the route they wanted to go. Finn was almost deflecting once again, but another look told them these were the good ones. She had a smile playing on the corner of her lips, softening her expression. Her fingers trace the letters gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I haven't seen this in so long.” She sits again, looking at them. “Your mother made it for me on our one year anniversary.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They are both smiling, but Finn’s doesn’t last long, a look of confusion setting in their faces instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, one year anniversary? Wasn’t it that book you love? Since all that paper bs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their mothers were not the most traditional couple in general, being lesbians notwithstanding. But they followed these wedding traditions to a fault - paper, cotton, wood, silver… all that weighed in the gift-giving. From what they knew, Catra had given Adora her favorite book, </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Lady of the Camellias</span>
  </em>
  <span>, in hardcover. Only inside was filled with her commentary. Sarcastic little notes, plot holes being pointed out, doodles… all sorts of Catra things. When Finn had to read this book for their eighth grade literature class, they borrowed the book from their moms innocently, only to be surprised by the handwritten notes, that honestly saved their thirteen-year-old mind from boredom - when they were not almost puking at the love notes. It was all fine, until, during a silent reading Finn burst out laughing with a whore joke Catra had made. That led to a very interesting parent-teacher meeting and Finn getting another copy to study from. So yeah, a vinyl disc didn’t make much sense at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, not our wedding anniversary. One year of dating. Were we nineteen? Twenty? I'm not sure. And this little caveat here helped absolutely nothing, I cried opening it and I cried listening to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you're crying now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their mom wasn't crying per se, but her eyes were still watering. Still, she chuckled at Finn’s comment. They weren’t going to stop now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what you gave to her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> had gotten another reaction altogether. Instead of the look of fondness they expected, Adora severely blushed and looked away. That was bound to be interesting. She self consciously put an arm behind her neck, in a gesture that was so juvenile, but that her mother had never seemed to grow out of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, now you </span>
  <em>
    <span>gotta</span>
  </em>
  <span> tell me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I gave her these colored pencils she was crazy about, only 12 colors though. College life was not kind and, damn, art supplies are expensive, but I had them engraved with her name.”  Finn waited for their mom to finish, but apparently she already had</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it?! That’s cute, mom, but why would you have that reaction?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Reaction, what reaction, I didn’t-” Finn looked her dead in the eye and she caved almost instantly. “Fine! I got the date wrong, okay? I did this whole surprise thing, only a week earlier.” Finn laughs loudly. That was such an Adora thing to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah yeah, your mother never let me hear the end of it either, go on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora joins in after a few moments. She did not have the prettiest laughter, too many awkward hiccups and huffing, but its sheer absence from this household lately made Finn drink it up as if it were the most beautiful sound to ever exist. Without prompting, Adora reached to the turntable and set it to play again, this time adjusting the speakers so their voices wouldn’t be drowned out by the singer. They didn’t go back to talking right away, though. Instead, Adora closed her eyes, letting a lot of the tension she was holding slip away from her shoulders with each note hit and chord played; she was uncoiling bit by bit. The expression on her face the same Finn had seen a million times before when their moms cuddled to listen to whatever opera or musical they were obsessed with at the time. It was their little ritual: once a week, after dinner, they would all sit together in the living room just enjoying each other’s company. It didn’t matter if they had work to do, a room to clean, school assignments… for those two to three hours the outside world ceased to exist and it was only their little family. Sometimes they changed it up and watched something instead, they just had to be together - it was really a rare occasion when they had to cancel their night. Finn always loved those moments, even when the soundtrack choice wasn’t always to their taste (they got to choose the musicals so it was only fair). Their moms shared one big armchair, even though there were two of them </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> a sofa, even though it got quite tight sometimes, even though they would </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> complain of an elbow here and a knee there. But if someone asked why not just sit in different chairs, they would just incredulously look at them, like they told them to stop breathing and not simply change seat arrangements and say they were fine. Baby Finn had joined them for a while, huddling together in the cramped space, until they outgrew their stay and got the second armchair all for themself. The thing almost swallowed them, but it gave them a sense of importance, like they were a grown-up. They would fall asleep halfway through and only wake up to one of their moms carrying them to bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finn looked to their side, having </span>
  <span>i</span>
  <span>nadvertently fallen prey to those memories and sensations from what it looked like another life, and saw that Adora seemed just as engrossed as them. They really were nice memories. Still with her eyes closed, Adora said quietly:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gosh, it's been a while since I listened to this,”  She looked at them. “That's what we listened to on our first date, you know? Your mom almost had to physically drag me to the theater with how reluctant I was.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I wasn’t such a big fan of opera back then… I quite hated it, actually.” Adora said this casually like she wasn’t giving Finn exactly what they had been wanting, a juicy revelation about their past, something that didn’t belong in the “mom box”. Now Finn was carefully rewiring their brain to fit this new image that had just been created. Sure, Adora had never fit the stereotypical opera listener (neither of their moms had); she wasn’t all wine tasting, intellectual, fine clothing type of enthusiast and yet this genre was an intrinsic part of her. It was always funny to see Adora shock “judgemental stuck up pretentious people”(Adora’s words, not Finn’s), that would immediately write her off as just some jock, with her broad knowledge of art. So yeah, as much as it was casually revealed, it still came as a big shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can't believe you two always gave me so much crap about no liking </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> and you’re the one who had to be dragged to the theater by mom!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Almost</span>
  </em>
  <span> dragged!” their mom said indignantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh pardon, almost dragged.” Finn corrected themself with a hand over their heart, making a point to show it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>such a big change</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Adora laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re really making DT proud with this much drama, Kitty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do my best. So, are you gonna tell me the story or not? I’m surprised that didn’t make the cut.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All their extended family had brilliant stories about their youth they loved to tell, and all their kids had been their main audience. They would eat up every word, one of the rare times Finn and their cousins were quiet and still - as much as they could manage, anyway. They were always curious about how the family got together and managed to stay that way after so many years plus their many feats and escapades. The children had been graced with stories of a few chaotic weddings - one of which had many centerpieces catching on fire -, of the time when Glimmer and Catra had gotten everyone kicked out of an amusement park, of Bow and Scorpia creating a new trauma after a haunted house fiasco - hell, even a story of when, with no planning at all, Adora, Glimmer and Scorpia had gotten pregnant around the same time.  So many adventures of their parents filled their childhood and only encouraged the newcomers to embark on their own, outgrowing the stories, making new ones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were children, you'd much rather listen to the chaos we wreaked than romantic tales.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“True, but I’m not a kid anymore. Tell me, please?” Finn said with those puppy eyes they knew their mom couldn’t ever resist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. One origin story coming right up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way their mom settled down and exhaled, a tiny smile in the corner of her lips was all the warning Finn needed to know it was not going to be a quick one. Well, even better.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mara? Have you seen my jacket?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>19 year old Adora finally calls it quits and decides to ask her sister for help. Her room, which had never been the tidiest, now resembles a war zone. Adora still doesn’t have her jacket on. Any more turning her room upside down and she’d be raising a white flag. She tries to calm her breathing down and keep her nervous sweating under control, as she had spent way too much time getting ready for it all to go to waste now. Adora, the girl who almost had a uniform to go to college and never spent more than five minutes thinking about her outfit, just spent the past couple of hours trying her whole wardrobe out. She was trying to look </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice</span>
  </em>
  <span>, okay? Her twice-used grey dress and the least worn out sneakers she had were the best she could do. Her hair at least had done her the favour of looking good on its own, so she just wore it down (not that there was much she knew how to do with it). All in all, she felt okay. At least she wasn’t wearing joggers. Still, her multiple times cursed jacket was missing and she was feeling incomplete without it. She needed everything to be just perfect today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which one?” Mara screamed back from the living room downstairs “Forget it, shouldn't have asked. It's still in the clean laundry pile.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora cursed under her breath for not thinking about it and thanked Mara. She rushed to the basket in the kitchen, picking up her denim red jacket and immediately putting it on. The effect was almost instantaneous. Her friends could tease her all they wanted, but comfort clothing was a really powerful thing. Feeling way more secure in her own skin, she turned to see herself in the distorted reflection the glass door provided. She looked good, the jacket complimenting the dress way better than she thought it would. That was enough to boost up her confidence a bit, and she was definitely going to need it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora put her phone and wallet in the jacket’s pocket and she was now officially done. She checked the clock one last time and seeing there was still about fifteen minutes to kill, she tried to get rid of all her nervous energy by pacing back and forth in the kitchen. It wasn’t exactly helping, but it was better than sitting still. She sighed. Everything was going to be fine and she was not going to psych herself out. Unfortunately, that wasn’t working, or else Adora would have heard Mara creeping up in the kitchen and observing her with an amused smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think there's a spot over there you forgot to polish with your shoes.” she almost jumped out of her skin, turning back to glare at her sister, but still walking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haha, you're so funny, Mara.” she said in a fake bright voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I live to amuse. What has you so worked up, anyway? Big date” Adora stops in her tracks and turns to face Mara, blushing slightly. “Oh, it really is a date? Oh my god, who is it? Do I know her? Where are you going? Who asked who? How dare you keep this away from me, Adora!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That </span>
  </em>
  <span>was exactly the reason she kept it away. She loved Mara, but making a big fuss around this date is only going to make Adora nervous, or well, more than she already was. She wasn’t exactly experienced in those things, and she barely had any time for them anyway, with all her practices and assignments taking up all her schedule. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't know. I mean, I know who she is, I just don't know where we're going.” Mara gave her a strange look and Adora completed, quietly. “She said it's a surprise.” One glimpse at Mara’s expression and she knew that wouldn’t suffice, so she kept going, her blushing increasing tenfold. “Her name is Catra and she just moved here for college, she’s an art major and seems pretty cool.” Anticipating what was coming next, she said “Please, drop the interrogation, I promise I’ll tell you everything when I come back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which will be…” said Mara teasingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't know!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mara was outright laughing at her now. </span>
  <em>
    <span>At least someone was amused.</span>
  </em>
  <span> But as Adora slumped herself on a chair in front of her, she couldn’t help but let out a smile of her own. That was improvement, right? With every strike of the clock, Adora’s nervousness evolved to full on worrying. The past three weeks were extremely busy, with the soccer season starting again and the teachers dumping everything they could on them and two anatomy quizzes she probably bombed, but the only thing worthwhile she could remember about it all was Catra. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She met her when a teammate - Scorpia - Introduced them both at the end of one extremely grueling practice. Catra was Scorpia’s new roommate, just transferred from the Fright Zone Institute to Bright Moon University. As practice had run later than usual and Scorpia was Catra’s ride home, she had come to wait by the field. They had been introduced and left alone for about seven minutes as Scorpia went to grab her things, but they simply hit it off. By the end, they had successfully exchanged numbers. After that they had gone out for coffee in between classes a grand total of twice and then had only seen each other in passing in the corridors. But the texting couldn’t seem to reach an end. It was funny for Adora how smoothly things had gone, since she seemed to be quite the lesbian disater when it came to… well, women in general. Especially pretty ones, with beautiful striking mismatched eyes that seemed to be interested back. When they finally had a bit of free time, three weeks later, Catra asked her on a real date. She said as she had been the one with the guts to ask first, she got to plan it. Which was fine by adora, except she wouldn’t tell her </span>
  <em>
    <span>where, </span>
  </em>
  <span>or even </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She didn’t really like surprises, and what was so wrong with wanting to be prepared? So she tried really hard to pry the answer from Catra in the past week. However, the only fragment of information she received came yesterday evening and it was only “wear something nice”. Adora almost spiraled. Was this flirting? Was it serious? What did nice even entail? Now she knew she would only receive cryptic answers back. She really tried to be chill about it. As it turns out, she was not very good at it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora and Mara stayed in silence, Mara messing around on her phone and Adora trying to get out of her head, until they heard the bell ring. They both got up, but Adora basically sprinted to the front door, almost trampling Mara and opening it with a fast move, startling the girl on the other side of it. She tried to play nonchalant for exactly two seconds before grinning and openly staring at Catra. She was just as beautiful as the last time they'd seen each other. And Adora was just as dumbstruck. She was wearing a long red jumpsuit that complimented her brown skin, short black heels and no accessories other than a thin burgundy headband pushing her curls out of her face. It was not too formal that it definitely had the possibility of being, but Catra made it look casual, nice.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>So that's what it meant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora thinks she is not too far off since Catra is smiling back at her gawking, doing some staring of her own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Adora. Ready to go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, just... one sec.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns back to Mara, who had recovered and was waiting to see Adora out. She just says goodbye and assures her she’ll text her to let her know when she’ll be back, no need to worry. She quickly grabs her keys and closes the door. She probably should invest in a purse, if she was going to stuff her pocket full like this everytime. Or maybe a fanny pack - okay, now she’s just asking to be mocked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She walks off the porch side by side with Catra and into her car in silence, stealing not so subtle glances at the girl. As soon as they get into the car, Adora starts fidgeting again, wringing her fingers and trying not to bounce her legs too much. She knew it could be annoying. B’ut not surprisingly, they settle on a rhythm of comfortable conversation and occasional banter very quickly. The interest Catra shows in what she’s done that has not already been relayed through text does not come across as fake or required politeness. It always strikes Adora that she’s genuinely interested in hearing her bitch about her horrible chemistry teacher or prattle on about this new show she’s been watching. Catra knows how to listen, and even when solely looking at the road ahead, Adora knows she has her full attention. In turn, Adora's just as captivated. She could just listen to her husky voice all day. To her dismay, Catra was way more succinct in contrast to Adora’s babbles. Nonetheless, each word was balm to her ears. She had learned through these weeks of sending voice messages to each other how to hear the little secrets Catra hides when she speaks. She didn’t need to look at her to be able to hear the smirk in her voice nor to be able to differentiate between a smirk, a smile or grin. She knew how she hid her frowns in her voice, even when her face was completely still. Each lilt, rasp and drawl just made her more invested in discovering each new meaning. She didn’t need to look, but looking only made everything that much better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were so engrossed in conversation, Adora barely paid any heed to where they were going. Shockingly, given that was the main reason for her previous distress. She focused on the way ahead, not recognizing where they were, but knowing they were still in town, they hadn’t been driving for that long. Catra glances at her strangely when she suddenly takes too long to answer, and starts to lose the flow of their conversation. Adora keeps her eyes on the road, trying to figure out this puzzle without even having all the pieces. Her nervousness coming back full force. Soon, her curiosity coupled with anxiety got the best of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So…” She doesn’t even register what Catra has asked her, completely going off track. “Where exactly are we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Close to the town center.” She answered</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And we’re heading to…” Adora prompted, in a last ditch attempt at getting answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re freaking out, aren’t you?” Catra laughed, the sound effectively drowning out her outrage at the teasing. She sheepishly smiled back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pretty much, yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, princess, I might put you out of your misery.” Adora looks at her expectantly, but she just stays silent, smugly watching her from the side of her eye. Adora catches on to that and whines an undignified “Catraaa” before playfully shoving her shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The car skitters a bit on the road and they both laugh as Catra regains control of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey! Careful with the driver!” She’s still smiling, making her reprimand plainly ineffective. “I’ll tell you, geez. Do you like music?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, who doesn’t?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Glad to hear,” there was a teasing edge on Catra's voice “‘cause I got two tickets for La Traviata on the municipal theater”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora tried to control her reaction. She really did, but she was never a good actress. And truly, Catra's mouth moving around the italian words was almost enough to curb her disappointment. Even though her face fell and her nervous excitement simmered down. She could barely sit through a whole movie without getting bored or at least needing a break, a play with however many acts of singing slowly in a language she didn’t understand seemed like a torture tailored specially to her. She knew she hadn’t done a great job at hiding what she was feeling when Catra turned somewhat in her direction, still looking at the road ahead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Adora?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh nothing , nothing! Opera is... opera is just great! Go la traviata!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra chuckled, looking at her strangely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be honest, dork.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The nickname made her heart flutter with a feeling she didn’t know how to name yet, but she definitely wasn’t averse to feeling it again. That urge was probably what compelled her to rectify her answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I kind of… hate opera.” She sighed. “I'm sorry, I know you were excited and you planned all this and then I just come and ruin it and-” Adora was barely keeping track of the words spewing out her mouth rapid-fire. She already knew she and Catra were very different, with few shared interests and similarities beyond the fact they were both orphans going to college on a scholarship. Yet up until this moment she never deemed it a problem; they seemed to get along pretty well despite it all. Now though, the old crippling doubt that she had kept firmly locked away was resurfacing filling her mind with horrifying what-ifs. What if she wasn’t the person Catra would be interested in after all, what if she was looking for some cult and sophisticated person who dresses all </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice</span>
  </em>
  <span> and regularly listens to operas, speaks different languages and- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand on her knee promptly stopped the stream of both her words and thoughts. She sheepishly looks at Catra, now driving with only one hand, and blushes hard. If she hadn’t made a fool out of herself before, she surely did now. But Catra was donning a soft smile, no judgement in her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calm down before you give yourself a panic attack. It’s okay, you didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>ruin</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise. honestly, I kinda had a feeling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did? Then why…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stopped at a traffic light and Catra turned completely towards Adora. She stared at her for a few seconds, before squeezing her knee slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Cause I learned it doesn’t really matter </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> you’re listening to,” before Adora could ask her what the hell that meant, the red turned to green and they were off again. But Catra kept talking. “It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>who</span>
  </em>
  <span> you’re listening with. I must say that I have pretty good company.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora was stunned. For all the times she claimed she must have sinned enough to make the gods permanently pissed at her, she must have done something right to deserve the girl across her. She was amazed. She knew then she was falling hard, no amount of doubt could drown out this wondrous feeling, the “I think this can be it” sensation spreading through her chest as she just stared at Catra. She was going to be her undoing, but she’d willingly rip herself apart if that meant she got to stare at Catra’s blushing face for just a little while longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra was still expecting an answer, though. A look of uncertainty taking shape the longer Adora remained silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, if you really don’t want to go we can find something else to do, we really don’t have to-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Adora rushed to reassure her “No, it’s fine. I have pretty good company too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They smiled at each other, more bashfully this time. They remained silent the rest of the short ride. Catra’s hand stayed on her knee throughout - thank the stars for automatic cars - and Adora didn’t really think about the Opera the rest of the way.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She definitely had me hooked, but I was kinda still dreading the whole thing. Granted, I had never actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>been</span>
  </em>
  <span> to an Opera, or truly heard any, but I just </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> I wasn’t going to like it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both had shifted, Adora leaning against the armchair, still on the floor and Finn now had their head on their mom’s lap, snuggling closer. La Traviata was still going, but neither had really paid attention to whatever was going on outside this memory world. Heavily engrossed, they just let their minds wander, Adora picturing long lost images and Finn creating their own to go along with her narrations.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora ran her fingers through Finn’s hair, petting the shaved side absentmindedly. It was as relaxed as Finn had seen her recently, so doing their best to not startle her out of this state, Finn settled in more comfortably to listen in, heavily curious about where this was going, but still not sure why exactly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“From there it wasn’t long until we arrived at the theater…”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their seats were quite in the back, behind an ocean of heads and a few ways from the stage. Neither were complaining, though. Their row made them feel more secluded, apart from the crowd of spectators, separated enough to make it feel more intimate. date-like.  Lucky for them, it wasn't a full house today, so they had a couple of empty seats surrounding them. Still, the place was pretty packed, and as Adora looked around the theatre steadily filling with pompous people she saw how out of place she and Catra looked. Not because of their clothing, no. They actually pulled it off quite well, and it was only the matinee, after all. No, what made them stand out and garner more than a few curious looks was their age. There was barely anyone close to their demographic. But for as inept as the whole atmosphere was making her feel, she settled in her seat besides Catra without much fuss and as the girl started going on about the story and how to follow the translation, she couldn’t find it within herself to regret her choice to go along with this plan. Catra was clearly excited talking about the play, enunciating italian words Adora has absolutely no interest in learning the meaning of, but loves the way Catra’s mouth moves around them, showing off her pointy canines. The lights dimmed around them as a warning, the whole theatre growing quieter, people turning off cell phones and settling in. Adora quickly sent Mara a message, letting her in on their plans. She knew she worried about her as if she were her kid - and in many aspects, she was. Mara had taken care of her since she was 18 and Adora 9, after their parents had died, the least she could do was not worry her too much. She silenced her phone as soon as she got an answer, just in time for the lights to go completely out along with every trace of conversation. Catra, who was completely turned towards Adora, smiled and settled rightly on her seat, hands on her lap, looking eagerly at the stage. Adora refused to fawn over absolutely everything Catra did, so she did not find that extremely cute. She didn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora slumped back on her seat, the dreaded moment finally upon her. All the stillness and darkness did not bode well for her, but somehow she didn’t think she could get away with sleeping on her first date. Well, maybe no one would notice or maybe with the intermissions it wouldn’t come to that. Enraptured by that depressing train of thought, the first chord of the violin snuck up on her. She sat a bit straighter, seeing above the heads but only seeing dark curtains still closed. As the other instruments merged in and the curtains finally revealed the lit up scenery Adora was convinced the hair on her arms were attempting to jump off with how much they were raised. The crescendo of the notes started enveloping her, the acoustics of the theatre making her feel like she was submerged in this magnificent sea of hauntingly beautiful arrangements. Now completely upright and quite on the edge of her seat, Adora dared to hope it wasn’t going to be as bad as she thought. The singer joined in, Adora deeply invested. She fumbled with her little magazine - a libretto, Catra had called - and tried to make sense of what was happening, regretting terribly not paying enough attention to Catra’s previous words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noticing her struggle, the other girl’s hands quickly took over, holding one of Adora’s and guiding her to the right page and section. She smiled her thanks, waiting for Catra to turn back to her original position, focusing on her own libretto. But she didn’t, not completely. Her hand lingered on Adora’s, holding the back of it awkwardly, since Adora was still holding the confusing paper. The sign was clear and Adora’s thundering heart had no longer anything to do with what was happening in the universe of La Traviata, things far more interesting in her own. Not that she was complaining, as she moved the booklet to her other hand, adjusting the grip on Catra’s and settling both on her own lap, forcing the brunette to scoot a little closer. After that, she tried paying attention to the first number, but gave up midway through, just enjoying the music that wasn’t nearly as cacophonic as she once unfairly judged. She would catch up on the next number. By the third song, they were both extremely close, only the shared arm of their chairs separating them. By the end of act one, Catra had let her head fall on Adora’s shoulders, apparently not caring about the slight vision impairment the new position brought. They didn’t move when the fifteen minute intermission turned the lights back on, only whispering to each other in slightly hushed tones and tucking their legs occasionally to allow people passage. If asked afterwards, Adora would not remember what they talked about, but it was comfortable and easy so it didn’t really matter. When the second act began, Adora had her own head on Catra’s, her libretto discarded on her lap, following the play through Catra’s. At the end of act three, they were both holding back tears, Adora not doing a brilliant job at that, but come fucking on! That was so… sad. Simply sad, all that sorrowful resignation at the end just heartbreaking. And for the lady to just die like that? Why must the best love stories have such tragic endings? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the curtains closed and they were finally socially obligated to disentangle to give the actors a standing ovation, Adora wasn't even mad. They deserved it, that was freaking beautiful and all her previous assumptions about Operas were being washed away by her freely overflowing tears. She looked at Catra and saw she wasn’t that much better off. After curtain call and several more minutes of applause and desperately trying to wipe off her tears in between claps, they waited until the theatre was mostly cleared off to head back to Catra’s car. As soon as they were out of the theater, their hands found each other again, as they leisurely walked down the sidewalk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So... what did you think?" Catra smirked smugly at her and Adora knew she was never going to live it down. She wondered if that was going to be the new constant in her life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It wasn't sooo bad."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is that why you're still crying?" Catra brought a hand to her face, and wiped the remnants of her tear tracks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Tears of boredom, Catra. Just tears of boredom." Adora teased back, trying not to get too flustered at the intimacy of the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll add that to my list of accomplishments: making a girl cry on our first date unlocked."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they got closer to the car, Adora realized she wasn’t ready for this date to be over yet. It was still early, the sun hadn’t even set completely and the idea of detaching herself from Catra was not particularly appealing. Catra had already mustered up the courage to ask her out, it was her turn to woman up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, um, do you need to go home right away?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don’t think so. Why? what did you have in mind?" Yeah, Adora, what </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> you have in mind?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you wanna grab a bite? I’m starving." Thank the stars for her insatiable hunger, that was the perfect follow up and she really was desperate for food after three hours sitting in a theater.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra smiles at her and agrees. The problem of where to go, seeing as neither knew this part of town particularly well, was solved after a lot of yelp research. They ended up sitting side by side in a nearby diner booth. They didn’t need anything fancy and the cheap prices and delicious breakfast food meant Adora could order enough to feed a platoon. They stayed there long enough for the moon to have taken her place in the sky and for Mara to send a message asking if she should wait up or if Adora had found a more interesting way to spend the night along with a few very pointed emojis. Adora rolled her eyes at her sister’s utter disregard for privacy and just answered she was headed home. They probably </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> be leaving either way, Adora had an early practice tomorrow and Catra had to finish a piece for her photography class. No one ever said college life was easy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The walk back to the car was short, but they seemed to linger, aware of the need to go back, but still unwilling to let go. The street they parked was dimly lit, the shining moon brighter above them, a staunch spectator to this sweet development. The ride back home was quieter, more subdued, a charged tension fluttering between them. Adora knew there was some song playing on the radio, but she was too busy noticing Catra’s every movement to pay much attention to it. Their banter was easy to fall back on, but there was something different underlying each taunt. After so many hours sitting so closely together, the console between them a hindrance neither were fond of, Adora basically draped over it.  Catra’s hands kept firmly to the steering wheel, but every so often her elbow would graze Adora’s, sending little waves of electricity down her bones, a tingling sensation that hadn’t been there before, but somehow felt extremely familiar. Any excuse Adora had to keep this feeling flowing, she was taking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stopped outside of her house, Catra immediately turning off the engine and turning to face Adora, blue and gold eyes looking straight at her. Adora didn’t move. They just… looked, taking the other in, letting their eyes convey the feelings that were too strong to be uttered on a first date but too precious to let it go unacknowledged. In the silence of the car, their eyes professed their feelings to the stars, spewed love prose, declared undying devotion. Catra and Adora found, in that moment, that all the clichés about eyes held true; they were unbridled windows to your soul, exposing what you were not yet brave enough to say (but couldn't hold in).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their moment couldn’t have lasted more than a minute, but lost in it as they were, they wouldn’t have noticed if the sun had risen and they were still there. Adora broke the silence first, her voice barely above a whisper. There was no one for miles, but her normal voice tone didn’t seem fit for the situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- I really did have a great time. I know I was reticent about it, but,”</span>
  <em>
    <span> Don’t scare her away now, Adora</span>
  </em>
  <span> “this might have been the best time I’ve had in a long while, to be honest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra smiled at her, not the patented smirk, a real soft smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Happy to oblige.” She looked sideways, avoiding Adora’s gaze and blushing so lightly it might have been a light trick “I had a great time too. Thank you for going along with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your theory was right, by the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, don't get me wrong, the music was great and you might have turned my musical conception upside down today but... it really is who you're listening with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now she was sure Catra was blushing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You're such an idiot.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup, but you like me anyway.” they laughed together, easing a bit of the tension.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora, who was keeping her cool fairly well up until that moment, went back to being flustered and stumbling over her words with just two syllables from Catra. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, um, can we-” Now or never. “I want to do this again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go to the opera?” That teasing edge was back, but the soft look was still donning her beautiful features.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean sure, if you want to,” Adora said “but warn me first, I'll have to prepare myself for a numb arm next time.” Said arm was swatted jokingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn't see you complaining when you were using my head as a pillow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you blame me? Your hair is </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> soft. It should be a crime, really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra, blushing, went to slap her again, but Adora grabbed her hand before she could make contact and pulled her in. Never one to give in easily, Catra retaliated bringing her other hand up. They start a full on mock fight, going in the polar opposite direction Adora had intended. Yet, when said fight ended with Adora pinning Catra against the door, she forgot why she was complaining in the first place. She softens her hold, and pulls back a bit, giving Catra space to leave if she wanted. She stayed exactly where she was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Second date?” Adora rasped, suddenly breathless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, dummy.” Catra exhales.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora smiled, not exactly surprised, but relieved either way. That previous moment of stillness settled in again, but this time the urge to touch, to keep touching, was stronger. Adora suddenly felt a bit unsure. Was that what Catra wanted? She made sure her movements were slow and precise, giving the other girl chances to reject her and trying not to betray her nervousness. She leant closer over the console, dropping Catra’s wrists completely. Their breaths mingled, and every part of her body was hot with anticipation. Catra had one leg on the seat, her upper body completely against the car door. She let her freed hands snake over to Adora’s waist, gripping tightly, as if trying to ground herself and urge her at the same time. Adora was sure her heart skipped a couple of beats and when Catra looked deliberately between her eyes and her mouth, she couldn’t tell if it was even beating anymore. That was a clear signal, but Adora wouldn’t leave anything to chance. She wasn’t going to ruin this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I k-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora had intended on keeping this first night as chaste as possible, had tried to be the perfect gentlewoman, but as soon as she felt Catra’s tongue asking to explore her mouth, she was done. They probably could spare another 15 minutes, right? Or maybe half an hour would be best. Catra’s hands roamed to Adora’s neck, not so lightly raking her nails through the back of it, sending a shiver down her spine and forcing her to suppress what would’ve been a moan. Adora tightened her own hands on Catra’s hair, deepening the kiss, not caring that the center console was digging quite uncomfortably into her stomach. What should’ve been a sweet kiss, turned into a battle where neither side was taking any prisoners. The first kiss turned into a second one and that turned into multiple more, until they were both breathless and seriously considering whether they could make it through their days tomorrow without any sleep. Those reckless act you always see in dumb rom coms, but right now, they really didn’t look that dumb. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the end, they chose the more sensible route, not wanting to rush anything between them. They said their goodbyes, Adora leaning inside the car for one last peck, before finally getting home with a dopey grin plastered on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as she closed the door, she leaned against it, trying to calm her frantic heart and get a grip of herself. The whole house was dim, Mara probably already asleep, only the entrance light on, waiting for Adora. At least the whole interrogation could wait until tomorrow. She breathed in deeply through her nose, smile never fading, as she slid down the door and thought back on her day. Not a few seconds after she startled with her phone vibrating and quickly fumbled with her jacket pocket to get it out. It was a message from Catra. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Already? Is she okay? Have I forgotten something?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She opened it.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Catra😻</b>
</p><p>
  <span>[23:14] </span>
  <em>
    <span>ur door is transparent Adora</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[23:14] </span>
  <em>
    <span>i can see u sliding down</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[23:15] </span>
  <em>
    <span>must you be such a white girl??</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora’s chortle echoed through the house, probably rousing Mara, as she turned around to see the blurred silhouette of Catra’s car still parked outside. Adora quickly ran to the window, moving the curtains aside and giving Catra the middle finger she intended to send back. The effect was lessened by her besotted expression, but she could see Catra laughing. The car finally started again and Catra was driving off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she climbed the stairs to her room, not knowing yet what to send back, she knew one thing, she was never letting Catra go.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Adora’s sob brought Finn back to the moment to look at their mom trying to hold back the tears that seemed satisfied with flowing down her face. Finn wasn’t far behind. It was hard to control themself amidst the story still floating around, the sad operatic voice and the sight of their mom trying not to break down. With an aching heart, Finn cuddled closer to Adora, who promptly accepted them in her arms, shakingly squeezing the living daylights out of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finn understood now why this story had never made it into their childhood repertoire. It wasn’t a particularly funny story, it didn’t mention their daring adventures and neither did it seem to appeal much to children. It was an ordinary origin story, as mom had put it; a falling in love story. Simple, mundane and absolutely endearing. They couldn’t possibly regret asking for it, not when hearing it shed such an innocent light on their moms, such a normalcy others hadn’t. Not heroes, not pranksters, not even moms. Just two girls falling for each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finn tightened their grip on Adora, both dangerously close to shattering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I miss her so much, Kitten.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Such a sweet beginning, such a sad ending.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I miss her too, mom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stayed like this for a while, supporting each other through this pain, this loss that had crept up on them. Finn thought back to what Adora had told them, to how they could imagine Catra’s squeaky laughter, the way she used to roll her eyes when Adora and Finn were goofing around but never hesitated in joining them, how she could hold a grudge like no one else but always eventually apologized when she was in the wrong. And then it hit them. This was the first time in weeks they thought of Catra without the haunting beep of the machine tainting their memories. This saddened Finn even more. Why should a few months filled with pain in a hospital room replace a lifetime of good memories? Why should it become the go to memory that their brains selected when thinking of Catra? It just... it wasn’t fair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finn realized why they were in this incessant chase for fragments of their past. They wanted, </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed</span>
  </em>
  <span> more of Catra, and since they couldn’t have it in the future, the past was their only way to go. However, not only that motivated them. They were not going to let their mom be remembered only by the tragic way her story ended, not when her journey was so much more than that, </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> was much more than that. Catra deserved better. She was a brilliant artist, a loving mom, a great wife and friend. She was snarky and rough around the edges, but actually really soft underneath. She was hilarious and there was nothing that was free from her jokes, not even her own condition. Why, then, should she be remembered by something that was so far beyond her control? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With new determination, Finn gently disentangled themself from Adora, getting up and extending a hand for their mom to follow. Adora looked at them confused, but followed their actions. Finn guided them both to an armchair, turning up the volume of La traviata on the way. They got settled together, they would finish it one last time before they said goodbye to this house, now that Adora saw no more reason to keep it. But this was their ritual, they never missed one, they knew Catra wouldn’t either. Whatever the stage was, she would be listening with them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s what they were going to do, both of them: they would honor her properly. They would cultivate the good, the bad and the sad. Everything that made Catra into who she was. They couldn’t fight off nature, the threads of fate too complicated for them to make sense of why. They wouldn’t fight off the sadness either, after all, they could no longer share this world with one of the people they loved the most, they would cry and mourn what </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>have been, but they would not let it tarnish what they've </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They hugged each other way past the last note was sung. Everything else could wait until morning. They fell asleep in the armchair, tear tracks on their faces, but more peacefully than they’ve been in weeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their time had been cut short, but Adora would find Catra in the next lifetime and Finn would be honoured to be their kid again as long as the universes allowed them.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi there!<br/>you should follow me, I'm stuck at home and have nothing else to do except interact with strangers on the internet! Always up for a chat if you want to scream at me.<br/>my Tumblr: <a>@piet-ra</a> (super active there, I'm still stuck at age 12 apparently)<br/>my twitter: <a>@Just_A_Frog</a>  (not as active on this cursed site, mostly nsfw stuff, so please be over 18)<br/>huge thanks to <a>@moanla</a> for beta-ing this!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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